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  “Shelly—”

  “It started with me,” Shelly said to Cooper. “It did,” she said when he looked doubtful. “I swear it.”

  Dante stepped forward, but she put a hand on his chest, and with a pleading expression, held him back. “I’m going to tell them.”

  “Shelly, Christ. No.”

  “You know I’m all Stacy has,” Shelly said to Cooper and Breanne. “It’s just the two of us. We used to live in a small apartment in town over the hardware store. I was commuting out here every day and Stacy was in a day care class at the rec center. A special program so she wouldn’t be by herself.”

  “We painted,” Stacy said with a dreamy smile. “Finger painted.”

  Shelly smiled at her. “That was your favorite, I know.”

  “Edward didn’t like my finger painting,” Stacy said, and rubbed the top of her hand as if it’d been hit.

  Dante stalked the length of the room, his expression nowhere near calm.

  “Edward wasn’t much fun, I take it,” Cooper said lightly to Stacy, though his eyes were anything but.

  She shook her head.

  “A month ago the state’s funds changed,” Shelly said. “And the money for Stacy’s rec center program dried up. I brought her here, but she got into Patrick’s paints and redid the hallway. Edward blew a gasket, to say the least.”

  Stacy lowered her head. “I was sorry.”

  Shelly hugged her. “I know. He had no right to smack your hand, no right at all.” Shelly looked at Cooper. “Then the rent on my apartment skyrocketed and I couldn’t afford it. But the owner of this place liked my work and told Edward to let me live in one of the downstairs servants’ rooms until I found another place. He said it’d be no problem.”

  “But it was a problem,” Lariana said. “For Edward.”

  “He lived here, too,” Patrick told Cooper. “And it turns out, he doesn’t like to share.”

  Dante paced some more, muttering something in his native tongue.

  Cooper raised a questioning brow.

  “I said he was an asshole,” Dante said. “He made the girls feel bad all the time. He said shitty things to Lariana—”

  “I didn’t care what he said to me,” Lariana said defiantly, tossing her hair back. “I could handle him.”

  “I cared,” Shelly said softly. “But there was no other job where I could have Stacy with me.”

  Stacy stared at her fingers, twining them together, humming softly to herself as she began to rock.

  “I tried to keep her busy during the day in our room, something she could do quietly so she wouldn’t bother him,” Shelly said. “Like reading and coloring, but sometimes she’d get bored.”

  “She just wanted to help,” Lariana said. “But Edward wanted her gone. He even stole money out of my purse so I’d think it was Stacy. It wasn’t,” she said bitterly. “But in spite of him, I’d let her help me with stuff. She’s a great sweeper.”

  Stacy lifted her head and beamed. “I like to sweep.”

  “It was nice for her to be busy,” Dante said. “And it made her feel good.”

  “I’m guessing Edward didn’t agree?” Cooper asked.

  Dante let out a harsh laugh. “The day before you two arrived, Stacy was helping Lariana dust.”

  Lariana winced. “Probably not my best idea.”

  Stacy went back to humming.

  “She broke a few things in the dining room,” Dante said. “No big deal.”

  “Edward went mad,” Patrick remembered. “Yelling and screaming. He threw stuff, too.”

  “He scared her,” Shelly said as Stacy hummed louder, rocking, too.

  Dante’s face was granite. “I wanted to kill him.”

  “We all did,” Lariana said. “But that was just anger and frustration. None of us really would have.”

  “He raised a hand to Stacy,” Shelly said, “and I thought, this is it. He’s going to hurt her again. And I . . . I caught his hand. I told him if he hit her, I’d kill him.” She covered her face. “I told him if he did anything to her, even yelled at her again, I’d kill him, and I meant it. I meant it.”

  A long silence filled the room. Breanne squeezed Shelly’s hand.

  “I heard him yelling from the garage,” Patrick said. “But as the sight of me usually made him more mad, I didn’t rush in.”

  “I knew I was fired,” Shelly said. “And I think I was numb. I went to our room to pack, but then I heard him yelling again, at Stacy. When I ran into the dining room, Stacy was standing over Edward, who was on the floor. He was . . .” A sob choked out of her. “Dead. He had a gash over his forehead and there were shards of a large glass vase all around him.”

  “That was the sliver of glass I found that first night,” Breanne remembered.

  Stacy rocked so fast she became a blur.

  “I panicked,” Shelly admitted. “Stacy was just staring at me like I was her whole world—” She swiped at her tears. “God. I’d threatened him. Everyone had heard me. And here he was, dead. But I couldn’t go to jail—what would happen to Stacy?”

  Stacy stopped humming and dropped her head to her knees.

  “I knew I had to make it look like an accident,” Shelly said. “I tried to drag him to the cellar stairs. They’re steep, and it seemed like a good idea to make it look like he’d fallen. So . . .”

  “You pushed him,” Cooper guessed.

  “I intended to, but I had a problem. He was heavy—he got stuck around that tight corner of the dining room. He got blood on the wall. He’d lost a shoe.”

  “So you got help,” Cooper said.

  “She didn’t ask,” Dante told him firmly. “But yeah, she got help. I carried him to the stairs on my own. I pushed him.”

  “I cleaned up the blood,” Lariana said.

  “And then shoved the towel you used beneath the sink.” Cooper looked at Dante. “You left the gloves you wore beneath Shelly’s bed.”

  “We were going to dispose of both when the roads cleared,” Lariana told him. “But the roads never cleared.”

  “How did Edward get the hole in his chest?” Cooper asked.

  “That would be me,” Patrick looked grim. “When I saw how terrified Stacy was—” His voice cracked. “She couldn’t even talk, man.”

  Stacy’s fingers were white as she clenched and unclenched her hands. She’d begun to shake. Breanne stroked her back, feeling utterly helpless.

  “I lost it,” Patrick admitted. “I just happened to be holding the gun—I’d been scaring away a few squirrels. I looked down at the son of a bitch lying there, knowing he’d ruined all of us, and I shot him.”

  “You know that wouldn’t have killed him,” Cooper said.

  “Aye, I know. But he’d said those things to Lariana, he’d terrified this poor little thing—” He gestured to Stacy. “The fucker deserved to die, mate.”

  Cooper sighed, scrubbed his hands over his face.

  “You don’t think so?” Dante demanded.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Since when?” Dante asked.

  Cooper looked at him for a long moment. “Look, the guy was an asshole, the worst kind. We all know it. But him dying wasn’t for any of you to decide.” Cooper dropped his hands and looked at all of them. “Why the hell didn’t someone turn him in for harassment? Employee abuse? Hell, anything . It didn’t have to get to this.”

  “Please don’t tell the police what Stacy did,” Shelly whispered. “Please.”

  Cooper let out a long breath, filled with tension and unhappiness, while everyone waited.

  Breanne ached for him, and the decision she knew he faced. For Stacy, and her sweet, helplessly contagious smile.

  When the doorbell rang, it was like a collective shot in the room; every single person jumped.

  Dante and Patrick stood.

  Cooper did as well, and stared at both of them. “Let me do this.”

  Neither man budged.

  “Sit down,” Coo